Photograph Smile by Howl
by Howlcastle
Summary: A picture can speak a thousand words, but those of what that picture has itself witnessed. special thanks to Alex Archer for once again letting this lazy boy use her account!


Photograph Smile

They were jubilant with bright eyes and broad smiles.

The one on the left wore glasses and Quidditch robes of a royal maroon colour. He would raise his arm in the air in victorious salute to the sky.

The boy on the right was tall and redheaded, his cheeks and ears infused with a delicate shade of pink as he tentatively put his arm around the shoulder of the person next to him.

In the middle the third one stood, smallest and proudest with her wild hair flying in the breeze and her arms around the two boys on either side of her. She wore a yellow and maroon scarf around her neck and a badge that shone in the sunlight.

A happy trio magically captured in time, joyously repeating their actions for ever more, their minds stamped only with the feelings and knowledge of that moment.

Triumphant Seeker. Proud Friend. Brave Keeper.

When they were first printed they were handed from the squeaky-voiced boy to the youth with the black unruly hair and circular glasses. He grinned as he encased them in a solid wooden frame, wrapped them in tissue paper and sealed them from view in a box.

In the dark the three continued to celebrate; the dark-haired boy yelling and punching the air, the bushy-haired girl hugging her friends in congratulations. The red headed boy looking both exhilarated and amazed.

Light came to them not many weeks later when they were unwrapped by a flush cheeked bushy haired girl. A lanky, freckle-faced boy lent over her shoulder and grinned at the sight of them. He took hold of their frame as the grateful girl hugged a boy who's hair was jet black.

Soon after the bushy-haired girl placed them lovingly on her bedside. Sometimes she would sit and look at them, Most nights before turning out her light she would raise them to her lips and place a kiss upon the part of the photo where the red-headed boy stood, but his eyes were only for the girl that stood next to him.

Not long passed before this very portion of the photograph was blocked from view with a book mark. The pattern followed over the next two years or so, the subjects never questioning whey the girl would talk to them in the dead of night, sometimes in tears. She asked them questions they would never be able to answer.

A day came when chaos stormed their dormitory home. Bedsteads lay broken and splintered, the bed hangings frayed and smoldering. The cheery triumvirate found themselves facing the stone floor, glass glittering around them in angular shards.

For some time they faced the floor. The castle's dampness began to curl the corners of their home, yet the house elves never came to dust and set them straight as they had every day previous.

Vines began to creep near them, twisting over the long abandoned four-posters, yet their owner never came to claim them. Nevertheless the red head's ears glowed pink as he glanced from the girl beside him to grin over her shoulder to his dark-haired friend. The sun shone on all three as they celebrated in their small slice of time.

By the time the dust had settled like snow the trio found themselves being overturned by the shoe of a dark clad figure who looked down upon them with a sneer. The hook nosed man stooped down and picked them up, rubbing debris from the surface with his dark sleeve. His scarred face gazed upon them, and with a sad shake of his greasy-haired head he removed the frame with one pale, spidery hand and stowed them within the dark confines of his robes.

A matter of hours later they were removed from the dark fabric and rolled carefully by the pale man with dark, intelligent eyes and grey-streaked hair.

The wind whipped about them, though their carrier did not fail, even through snow and sleet. Despite their chilly descent the three friends remained overjoyed and warm in their moment.

When they were unfurled a few days later they beheld a lone man with many freckles scattered about his pale, gaunt face. The man's eyes grew wider as he unrolled and drew them closer. His face became a mixture of shock and sadness.

His freckled hands began to shake though the three within remained in a state of constant celebration, even when drops of moisture blurred and altered them; the black-haired boy's body becoming fuzzy. One hand hastily wiped the wetness away, leaving a smear where they boy's body had once been.

The man wiped his eyes and focused on the bushy-haired girl. He mouthed her name though they could not hear him. He ran his shaking fingers through his long, red hair and over his stubbled chin. The remaining hand faltered and they found themselves fluttering to the bare floor.

The man sank to his knees in the middle of the spartan room and sobbed over what should have been.

His former self so happy and alive in that moment with his cherished friends was all Ron Weasley had left.


End file.
